


What Did I Do?

by EnjolrasAmy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnjolrasAmy/pseuds/EnjolrasAmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, this is my first attempt at an adult rated fic, so please bear with me. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but please don’t flame me if you hate it. The plot idea came to me while reading the Fifty Shades trilogy.</p><p>WARNING: Smut, lemons, rape, bondage, violence, domination, interrogation etc are featured here. DO NOT read if you’re underage (why are you even on this rating anyhow?) or offended by any of the subjects this fic covers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Did I Do?

“Down with the King. Under him, we’ll never have the freedom we deserve, or the equality we need. My friends, the time for talking is fast running out. Our ally list is weak. Only Lamarque is with us. Desperate times mean desperate measures!” Eighteen year old Marianne Enjolras spoke to the crowd gathered around her, her slim frame standing out among the gaunt faces of the poor and hungry, or the round, well-fed merchants who had also taken an interest in what this pretty brunette had to say. Marianne glanced around, slightly uneasy. She knew what a risk she was taking, speaking out against the King in public. This was nothing short of treason, and she knew it. After all, she’d be easy to find and arrest. How many other women were found in cafes with several young men at a time, plotting treason rather than being the whore they paid for? She was the only female leader of a rebellious group of the few in the city. Most people thought her a whore in passing, but she was far from a whore. Her only desire was to set France free. No man would distract her from the cause, and she defended her pure, untainted virgin state. Oh, there had been many who wanted to take her and have her from when she was fourteen. But the Cause came first.

 

Lurking on the edge of the crowd, a man watched her with a cold, calculating malice. His only love was the law, and he’d do whatever it took to uphold it. He watched this girl closely, heard her talking herself into arrest. His mind strayed to the more human region as he watched her, the way she moved with an unconscious grace, like a dancer. His cock twitched, as his mind ran through the various possible tortures he could inflict upon her, as a named traitor. Her rights, few as they were, would be irrelevant. Seeing the crowd around Marianne starting to disperse, he quickly sloped away to a nearby alley, where another man was waiting for him.

“Inspector Javert,” the man said quietly, “We have enough evidence to arrest her for treason. She is the woman we’ve been looking for. Marianne Enjolras is her name.”

“I have heard her talk.” Javert remarked. “Astounding, that a woman could harbour such ideas. I wonder how many would have listened had she been a fat fishwife?”

“You desire her then?” the second man asked curiously. Javert nodded, in spite of himself.

“Yes. She’s too pure, too untouchable. And, as a named traitor,” he reasoned smugly, “she’d have no rights. I could do to her what I wished. I’d be the man who’d have her. And when she’s outlived her usefulness... well, we can always kill her.”

The man smirked and handed Javert a warrant for her arrest. “I’m afraid Mademoiselle Enjolras has lived her last day as a free woman.” He said conversationally. Javert nodded and dismissed him with a nod of his head. Frowning, he tailed her home, waiting for his moment.

 

Marianne sighed as she shut the door behind her. The crowd had been receptive to her ideas. It wouldn’t be long before they were seeing with her eyes. With the people on her side, the King would have to admit defeat. If he’d just stand down, there’d be no need for bloodshed. She slid down her front door, curling her knees up to her chest and thought through her options. After a few minutes she stood up slowly and gathered her little box of papers. She looked at the box carefully, thinking. There had been something not quite right about the crowd today. She needed to get the papers out of the house, and fast. Looking through the back, she saw one of the little gamins who often did small jobs for her, in return for money for their families. She smiled and beckoned to him. He came willingly.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Could you please take this box to Combeferre for me? And go discreetly and secretly. I think this house is being watched.” She said, handing him a few francs along with the box. The boy understood how dangerous it was, just from the volume of money she’d given him.

“Yes Ma’am, I’ll be discreet.”

“Good boy,” she said quietly. “And thank you.” She opened the back door and let him out. “Be safe.” He nodded and flashed her a cheeky grin. She smiled in return and watched him go. Silently she closed the back door and locked it. At least the papers were away now. Sighing, she went upstairs to change her dress. She’d got a meeting with Combeferre tonight anyway. She needed to tell him to be careful, if sending her box to him wasn’t warning enough.

 

Javert bided his time. When he was sure she was not coming out again, he stole over to her door and picked the lock. It was easy, the work of a few moments concentration. Really, with all her rebellious ideas, the stupid bitch should at least have better security. He slipped quietly into the hallway and hid in the shadows. He didn’t have to wait long before he got a glimpse of his quarry. Marianne ran back downstairs, clad only in her corset and underskirt, before disappearing into the room he guessed was her study. She stayed there for a few minutes, coming out smiling slightly. Javert suppressed a groan as she ran gracefully past his hiding place. Her corset was laced so tightly, and cut in a way that was a mystery to him, making her breasts swell and pull together. He felt his trousers tighten as his cock grew with desire. He had to have this girl. Javert weighed up his options. He could go upstairs now, take her and arrest her there, having her in surroundings she was comfortable with. The devil on his shoulder spoke to him, urging him to terrify her first, to make her biddable. Javert smirked. The devil won, as always. Decision made, he scratched his chin thoughtfully and waited.

 

A few minutes later, Marianne made her way softly down the stairs, more refined and ladylike than her headless gallop before. Javert stepped out of the shadow and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. She turned with a gasp of surprise. “Inspector Javert...” she breathed, terrified. Javert smiled coldly.

“Marianne Enjolras,” he snarled back, drinking in the sight of her like a parched man drinks water. God, she looked so perfect, her torso a perfect hourglass shape, her breasts large round mounds over the top of her bodice. Her dress was red, with a hint of black in the trimming. ‘Red like a slut’ he thought to himself. A simple gold cross encircled her throat. Being terrified suited her. Pale, her long brown hair rippling down her back, and a look of terror across her features, making her hazel eyes wide. He slid his hand down her arm and grasped her wrist tightly. “You’re under arrest on a charge of Treason against the King. As you are a woman, and a named traitor, you have no rights left under the law.” Javert paused and nuzzled into her neck. She smelt of flowers, and a faint trace of a perfume he could not identify. Marianne resisted his nuzzling with all her strength, but his hold on her was too tight. “Don’t resist,” Javert hissed. “It’ll be easier that way.” Marianne tried to pull away.

“Where is your evidence?” she snarled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Javert just smirked.

“You were seen. In the market place today. Talking treason.” He slipped a rope around her wrists, biding her hands behind her back. Marianne felt her hands being secured and instantly went into survival mode. Stretching her wrists as far apart as they’d go, she felt the rope give slightly. Slipping one wrist out, she brought her hand up to his cock, hard. For a moment she was confused. Why were his trousers so tight? She didn’t wonder for too long though, as Javert let out a grunt of pain, letting go of the rope. She freed her other hand and fled the house, trying to reach the relative safety of Combeferre’s house.

 

To Javert’s credit, he recovered pretty quickly from her attack. Cursing slightly, he followed her, only stopping to pick the rope up from where he dropped it. Someone could search the house later, when the traitor was in his possession. He knew where she’d go. She’d run to her little friends. All he had to do was get ahead of her. Frowning, he started to run, thinking of places he could cut her off.

 

Marianne gasped shakily. She hated corsets. Normally she wouldn’t bother with one, being slim enough, but tonight... well, she had to give the impression of being a good little bourgeois girl. Combeferre was pretending to be the perfect gentleman, possibly pretending to be her fiancé. It was the only way they could meet their contacts in authority. Her corset was compressing her lungs, making each breath painful. She knew her time was short, Javert would probably guess her destination, but she had to stop. She had to breathe.

 

Javert dashed along the streets, ignoring the people who gasped in surprise at the sight of the Inspector running, heedless of the other law-breakers he was passing. At the same time as she stopped to catch her breath, Javert reached the entry to the alleyway she was in. He nodded thoughtfully. She was close to her friends’ house. Had she reached it, he would have had no chance of taking her alone, without a fuss. Quietly, he prepared the rope again. Marianne started to move off, trying to find a gap in the fence that she could slip through. But alas, she was not fast enough. A lasso of rope slipped over her body, binding her arms tightly to her side. She tried to fight the rope, wincing in pain as the rope bit into her pale skin, drawing blood. Javert tugged the rope, ensuring it was tight, before gathering up the ends as he made his way to the spot where she was fighting her bonds. “I told you not to struggle!” he hissed to her as he came close. She froze where she was.

“And I told you, I’m innocent.” Javert laughed softly.

“Innocent, my arse.” He scoffed. “I have to remind you, that I have an order to arrest you for treason. As such, you have no rights. You’re mine. To do with as I will.” Javert leered at her, smirking. Marianne tried to suppress a tremble of fear. She knew what he meant. He’d take her virginity; she’d be worthless to the Cause. Her purity, her link to Patria... it would all be gone, taken by force. She’d be nothing but a whore. She frantically tried freeing herself again, making the rope bite even more. She gasped in pain. Javert grasped a handful of her hair and pushed her down to her knees. Marianne fell heavily, crying out in pain as she landed on the cobbles, hard. With his hand still twisted cruelly tight into her hair, he used his other hand to bind hers tightly behind her. Marianne tried to struggle, tried to break free from his grip, but every time she tried, his nails dug into her scalp, and he kicked her. Tears formed in her eyes, but she’d be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Biting her lip, she allowed him to drag her roughly to her feet. He let go of her hair but grabbed her upper arm tightly, inwardly cursing. The only way to get to the police station from here was to go past her friend’s house. Damn, she’d chosen well. Pulling his pistol out, he cocked it and pointed it at the small of her back. “If you so much as whimper to alert your friend, I will kill you. Understand?” Marianne nodded in terror. Her only chance was to hope that Combeferre was watching out his window, waiting for her. “Good.” Javert prodded the base of her spine with the muzzle. “Now walk.” Marianne had no choice but to obey. However, as they passed the front of Combeferre’s house, she risked a glance to the side. A curtain twitched, and a shadow got off the window. She caught a glimpse of glasses reflecting on the glass. She smiled to herself. Combeferre knew. He’d figure something out. As long as she could hold on until he mounted a rescue... Feeling the pistol against her spine again, she snapped her eyes to the front and co-operated all the way to the station.

 

Marianne pulled against her bonds frustratedly. Since their arrival at the station, she’d been taken underground, to a corridor where the cells were few, thick walls between each one. Javert had left her with two guards, ordering them to secure her well. She was kneeling on the cold, hard floor of a cell, her wrists bound above her to a couple of rings set deep into the wall. There was enough slack in the rope for her to stand and move around slightly, but she wanted to save her energy, to try and free herself. Just out of her reach, there was a table, covered with a cloth. For some reason, she was terrified of that table. She couldn’t see what was on there, but when she glanced over, she was gripped with a sudden terror. Forcing herself to look away, she swallowed and tried to ignore her fear. She had to be strong. She had to hold out for the amis, until a rescue party could come and save her. Whatever the cost, whatever they did to her... she had to survive. Her breathing grew shallow as she heard footsteps approaching. She lifted her head and looked through the door. Javert. She knew it. Javert, accompanied by three guards. On seeing her bound there, his lips spread into a wicked smile.

“Marianne Enjolras. We meet at last, with you at my mercy.” She glared at him.

“Fuck off Inspector.” She snapped in return.

“Temper temper.” He chided mildly. “I must remind you that you have no rights. Your confession, and sentence, is heard and carried out by myself. And I can make this easy, or hard. You decide.” Marianne didn’t reply, she just glared at him. Javert smiled. “God, you’d drive a man insane with those smouldering eyes.” Marianne’s eyes widened slightly, thrown. Javert smirked at catching her off guard and went over to the table, fingering the cloth gently. “I have under here various items that will make you scream, make you talk. Now, you can tell me willingly, and we can avoid any unpleasantness. Or I can torture it out of you.”

“I’ll never willingly tell you anything.” Marianne gasped, trying to hold her nerve. Javert sighed.

“I was worried that this would be the case. Very well. You leave me no choice.” And with one swift motion, he whipped the cloth off the table, allowing the torchlight to fall on the table. The gleam of countless metal instruments reached Marianne’s eyes, and she involuntarily shrank back. “You still won’t talk?” Javert asked gently.

“No. Never.” Marianne replied, her voice steadier now she knew what she’d face. Javert sighed and picked up a knife. He held it up in front of her, before pulling one of her arms towards him and placed the knife on the seam holding the sleeve to the bodice. After a moment’s pause, where Marianne just stared silently at the door, he put the knife to the stitching and made a small nick in the fabric. Putting the knife down, he shoved his fingers into the gap and pulled. The fabric ripped easily in his hands. Pulling the sleeve fully off, he examined her arm. It was so smooth, so white, so flawless... He couldn’t believe that someone this beautiful was single. But enough of that. He pulled a metal bar out of a cauldron of coals and held it close to her arm, so she could feel the heat radiating off it. She flinched back and mentally braced herself for the pain. Javert paused and withdrew the bar slightly.

“Ah, but you’re a virgin, aren’t you? Well, I’ll give you a choice. Either let me educate you in the ways of a woman, or you can burn to death as a heretic traitor, trying to set yourself up as a Goddess, as Patria.” Marianne shuddered. She’d die both ways. Die from shame if she let him take her, or die, the name of Patria sullied. She closed her eyes. Somewhere deep within her heart, she heard a melodious voice speak to her.

‘ _Marianne, do not give up your life. I know your pain. You’re suffering for me. I’ll never abandon you. This is not your choice, this is your test.’_

“Patria...” breathed Marianne, knowing that it was Patria who spoke to her. Opening her eyes, she stared into Javerts’ eyes, searching for a scrap of humanity. All she saw was lust, and desire. She trembled.

“Decided?” Javert asked snidely. Marianne just glared. “I thought that would be the case. In that case...” He threw off his jacket and picked up the knife again. Marianne tensed as Javert went behind her. He rested the blade of the knife across the top lace of her bodice. Leaving it there for a few seconds, Javert listened to her shallow, terrified breathing with a smirk. Turning the knife slightly, he sliced the lacing of her bodice, causing it to fall to the floor. Marianne’s breath caught in her throat as her terror threatened to overwhelm her. Javert smirked and dropped the knife, gathering her hair tightly in his hands. She whimpered in pain as he jerked her head back, so she was looking up at him, and could see his growing erection through his trousers.

“What do you want me to tell you?” She asked, staring at the bulge in his trousers with terror.

“Well, just an admission of your guilt is enough to see you executed. As it is, by not admitting anything, you’re my prisoner. To do with what I will. You’ll die eventually.” Marianne gasped. _‘Hurry up Combeferre, please...’_ she begged silently, knowing her chances of living were almost none-existent. Javert smiled and placed his hands on her shoulders, letting her hair go. Marianne bowed her head, ashamed, wanting this torture to cease. Javert pressed into her, his cock pressing against the back of her head. She nipped her lip to stop herself crying out. She could feel his hardness, and was aware of how vulnerable she was, tied down, completely at his mercy. She glanced down at her corset regretfully. No doubt Javert would have that off her too. He picked up the knife again and cut the waistband of her skirt. With a swift motion he pulled the fabric apart, tossing it carelessly aside. Marianne whimpered as she was kneeling there in nothing but a corset and slip. Javert paused and stepped back, admiring his bound prize. Leaving her there, he went over to the table and picked up an iron rod. Thrusting it into the coals, he left it there for a few moments, heating. He stared at Marianne. She refused to look at him, preferring to hang her head, her hair covering her face.

“Look at me.” He snapped. She refused, staring steadfastly at the floor. “Look at me. Bitch, you will look at your Master!” Marianne flinched at his tone, but kept her head down. She didn’t obey any man. Javert’d had enough. Quickly, his hands went to the top of his trousers, freeing his trapped erection. If the girl wouldn’t look at him, by God he’d make her. He prowled over to her, pulling her head up by her hair. She screamed in shock and pain, as his cock slammed into her mouth. Wrapping her hair around his fingers, he moved her head up and down his length, not allowing her air. Slamming her head down his shaft, he groaned as her chin hit his ballsacks. He came in her mouth, forcing her to swallow. Withdrawing he stood aside, smirking. She gasped for breath and heaved, trying to remove the taste of him from her mouth. She felt dirty and violated. Tears started falling down her cheeks. Javert observed this quietly.

“I’ll give you something to cry about you little whore!” He muttered, glancing at the rod with a pleased look. He took his knife in his hand again and wasted no time teasing, he slashed straight through the front of her corset. She cried out in pain as the knife nicked her stomach, ripping her slip in the process. Javert pulled her underwear off, admiring her naked body. “You’re beautiful, for a law breaker” he hissed. Marianne sobbed slightly, petrified.

“Please!” She begged him. “Please, leave me alone.” Javert shook his head silently and pulled the heated rod from the coals. Marianne looked at it in terror. Javert smiled cruelly and placed the bar slowly and deliberately across her back, from her left hip to her right shoulder. She screamed in pain, writing in her bonds, trying to free herself and pull away from the pain. But wherever she shuffled, Javert followed, holding the bar against her, headless of her screams of pain. Her skin sizzled as the bar burnt into her. When Javert was sure it’d leave a permanent scar, he removed the bar swiftly and placed it back on the coals. Marianne sobbed in pain, as Javert ran his hand over the open sore.

“What do you want Marianne?” He asked softly. “I can either do that until you die, or you can let me take you.” Marianne shook her head slightly.

“I can’t say.”

“Come come.” Javert said softly.

“Take me.” Marianne said softly, scared, but wanting to cling onto life, for Patria. Javert smiled and lifted her up onto her feet. His erection had grown again. Positioning himself behind her, he slowly inserted himself. She was so tight. Marianne gasped at the sharp pain as he inserted his length. He left himself in her for a few moments before withdrawing slightly. Smirking into her hair, he started to move, faster and faster. Marianne bit her lip, whimpers escaping her. Feeling a tightening in her stomach, she cried out and saw stars as her orgasm ripped through her. Javert came at the same time and kissed the back of her neck.

“Well done you.” He said softly. Marianne cried. Her purity, her innocence, was gone. To a man she couldn’t love, in a dark cell. Javert freed her bonds, allowing her to collapse on the floor, sobbing. He motioned to the two guards who accompanied him into the cell. “Alright lads. She’s ours.” The two guards smirked and dropped their trousers. Marianne sobbed as she foresaw what would happen. It was even worse than she thought. The three of them fell on her like vultures, taking her over and over again. She lay curled on the floor, trying to ignore the pain. After a few hours they were spent. She’d come over and over again, even when she thought she had nothing left in her. They’d left her with her burn, in agony, dirty, sweaty, and sticky with their fluids. She heard footsteps outside her cell and glanced up, dreading more. Combeferre’s anxious face looked down at her.

“Combeferre...” She breathed, holding a hand out to him before she passed out. She was unaware of the cell being broken into, her body covered by the tattered remains of her skirt, being lifted by gentle hands and spirited away from the cell, away from Javert. But the memories remained.

 

-Fin-


End file.
